


a love in bloom

by Walker_August



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Drabble, Early Mornings, F/M, Falling In Love, No Dialogue, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August
Summary: The flowers mean ‘good morning’, and so much more.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	a love in bloom

The flowers are sunshine yellow and warm up the whole room where they sit on your bedside table. In the bright morning light your eyes adjust slowly, sharpening focus on the bouquet as you blink the sleep from your eyes. They hadn’t been there when you went to bed; even in the flurry of strewn clothing and eager affection you know you would have remembered the beautiful flowers. You would have taken a moment, like you do now, to study their shape and their uplifting shade; the contrast between green leaves and bright petals reminding you of summers spent in parks and gardens, a feeling of familiarity that immediately further lifts your spirits.

Marcus lies besides you, and even though he must’ve been awake earlier this morning he’s dozing now. His body moulds against yours, your back to his chest, where he must’ve cuddled close to you when he got back in to bed. An arm lightly slung over your side to pull you closer, his soft slow breaths fanning across the back of your neck. It’s peaceful, gentle, makes you feel such a deep comfort to have him so close, to have him want to be like this with you. He’s always making you feel adored, even in his sleep.

You spy a note, besides the vase – how did he find your only vase? - and smile as you slowly reach up to retrieve it. In Marcus’ impossibly neat handwriting, it reads:

For my sunshine  
xx

He’d been calling you that since you had started dating, claiming your mere presence brightened his life, effortlessly charming you from the first date with his genuine warmth and devotion. You still can’t quite understand what you did to deserve someone like him. But here he is; bringing you flowers. Sleeping in your bed. 

Making you fall deeper every day.

It’s 9am, Marcus must’ve been up early to go out and get these, and after the late night you had? No wonder he came back to bed. It’s sweet but it worries you too; He works so hard, long hours and so little time off. He’s exhausted and overworked, even though he tries to hide it you know. And yet he still goes out on dates with you, stays up late with you, wakes up early on his day off just to buy you flowers. He puts so much of himself in to everything he does with you, there isn’t an ounce of love left spare when he offers all he has to you again and again.

It’s not been said yet, not by either of you. But you know, you both do. Blissfully happy doesn’t begin to cover how you feel when you’re with each other. Your heart beats out his name when you’re apart, every time you kiss it falters in disbelief at how much you feel for him. And he feels the same. That’s what the flowers say, that’s what the way he holds you as he sleeps says. Every single day you’re the first person he talks to in the morning and the last person he talks to at night. His soul is entwined with yours, and the flowers on your bedside tell you that in their own sunshine-bright way.

Finally you turn on to your other side to face Marcus. He still sleeps steadily and you feel a kind of peace at seeing him rest like this. This is what you want to be to him, what you hope you are, a place for serenity and safety. He’s been through a lot with past relationships and you know it left him wary for a moment, before you met. So seeing him like this; secure and at ease, it makes you feel good.

Slowly, you wiggle your way out of his embrace. He murmurs something unintelligible but stays asleep, and you’ll let him stay like that as long as he needs to, but you can’t resist a light peck of your lips against his. He’s warm and his lips are soft, and you could stay here for hours, but you want to do something for him. Breakfast, at least.

“Thank you for the flowers. I love you too” whispered quiet against his ear.

It’s the first time you say it out loud, a test of the words as they leave your mouth and it causes butterflies in your stomach. It feels right.

You can’t wait to say it again.


End file.
